


All This and Heaven Too

by moonstones42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:52:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstones42/pseuds/moonstones42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charlie, Kevin, and Sam find out how Cas really feels about Dean, they decide to help the besotted angel win the heart of the stubborn hunter. During their secret late-night pajama parties, the four devise ways to help Cas drop hints while pushing Dean in the right direction. Destiel with ridiculous match-making schemes, onesies, guinea pigs, flower crowns, and an abundance of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What You Know

“Do you think he knows?”

Charlie placed her tea mug on the counter with a heartfelt farewell, then turned to face Kevin as he entered the kitchen. She wasn’t quite sure why he’d suddenly decided to speak in a whisper, but she figured she might as well play along.  

“Do I think who knows what?” she asked, and Kevin gave a small jerk of his chin in the direction of the long table they used for research and dining. Sam sat surrounded by dusty old tomes, his back and shoulders hunched as he poured over the books’ contents. With the way he devoured every text in sight even when they weren’t on a case, Charlie was pretty sure Sam probably knew everything, including whatever mystery trivia Kevin was alluding to.

“Do you think he knows about Cas,” Kevin elaborated in an excited whisper, and Charlie gave him a slight frown.

“What about Cas? Do you mean the guinea pig he’s secretly kept in his room and feeds the fruits and vegetables that he picks up at the farmer’s market when he thinks no one will notice he’s gone?” she asked, and Kevin gave her a blank stare before shaking his head.

“No that’s not what I’m--wait, how long has Cas had a pet guinea pig? And why is it secret?”

“Not long, maybe two weeks. He didn’t want Dean to tell him pets weren’t allowed in the bunker and to make him get rid of it,” Charlie explained, retrieving her tea and taking a quick moment to welcome it back home.

“Oh. Ok. But that’s not what I’m asking about,” he insisted after a short pause. “Do you think Sam knows about Cas and Dean -- about all the stuff he told us a few days back.”

“Right,” Charlie said with a firm nod. “No idea,” she continued with an equally confident shake of her head. “But we could always just ask him,” she suggested with a shrug, exiting the kitchen and heading over to where Sam was seated before Kevin could protest.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Kevin hissed as he hurried after her, but Charlie dismissed his comment with a casual wave.

“How bad could it be,” she whispered over her shoulder, before pushing aside a leather-bound text and plopping down on the tabletop beside Sam. Kevin lingered behind him, making frantic hand gestures and facial expressions while mouthing “stop now this is a horrible idea”.

Charlie ignored him.

“Hullo, Sammy,” she greeted, giving his arm a nudge with her knee, and he looked up at her with a tired but pleasant smile.

“Hey, how’s it going, guys,” he replied, turning in his seat to offer Kevin a nod as well.

“Swell,” Kevin told him, discreetly beckoning Charlie away from the table. “We just wanted to, you know, make sure you were doing ok over here with all these...books. Can never have enough books, am I right? Uhm, anyway, we should probably get out of your hair and leave you to your--”

“Kevin wanted me to ask if you knew about Cas,” Charlie blurted, instantly stealing Sam’s attention away from the fumbling and bumbling prophet.

“About Benvolio? His guinea pig?” Sam asked, and Charlie shook her head.

“Ok how am I the only one who didn’t know about the guinea pig?” Kevin interrupted, and Charlie merely shrugged. Of all people, she would have thought think the bunker’s resident vegetarian would be the one to notice the sudden abundance of fresh produce that no remembered purchasing. Apparently she’d given Kevin’s observation skills a little too much credit.

“Well you’ve still got two over on Dean,” Sam offered in consolation. “He doesn’t know about the secret pet, or that Cas is in love with him.”

Kevin’s mouth opened and closed uselessly for a moment, and Charlie sat up a bit straighter in triumph; her direct approach of “ask and you shall recieve” had been proven successful once again.

“What, you thought I didn’t know?” Sam asked with a baffled laugh. “Of course I knew! How could I not? I mean, I’ve been the one living with both of them for what -- almost five years? And it’s only gotten worse since they came back from purgatory,” Sam told them. “Even before Cas confirmed it, it was written all over his face whenever he and Dean were in the same room. Sometimes even when they weren’t. Written all over both their faces, really.” Sam trailed off, and Kevin came forward to take the seat next to him.

“So you think Dean feels the same way?” Kevin asked, and Sam pursed his lips with a shrug. Not a definite yes, but a far cry from a no.

“Dean hasn’t said anything to you guys about it, has he?” Kevin continued, and Charlie and Sam both just looked at him.

“Right, stupid question. But if Cas refuses to come right out and say it, and Dean is being...Dean...then how is this ever going to go anywhere?”

“It’s not,” Sam sighed, running his hands over his face before pushing them back through his hair. “They’re just going to keep going around each other in circles, and spend the rest of their lives wondering why they can’t be happy instead of just fucking doing something about it.” He let out a huff of frustration, throwing himself back into his chair. “It’s just so fucking stupid,” he grumbled to himself, and Charlie offered him a sip of her tea in consolation.

“It doesn’t have to be all melodramatic stares and longing for each other’s touch for all eternity,” Charlie commented, warming her hands on her mug when Sam turned down her offer.

“You’re using your “I’ve got an ingenious plan that will solve everything” voice,” Kevin said, leaning forward in his chair with his attention now fully focused on Charlie. “Share your wisdom, Great One,” he added with a small bow.

“Oh stop it, you’re too much” Charlie told him, deeping her voice to an acceptable diva baritone and batting away his comment  as she mimed tossing a feather boa over her shoulder.

“Can you two save your All About Eve renditions for later?” Sam asked, and Charlie gave a small smile of apology before getting back on track.

“All we have to do is just counsel Cas and help him drop little hints to Dean until he finally realizes what’s going on,” she told them.

“Or not-so-little hints,” Sam corrected. “My brother has always been stubborn, but he’s dug himself extra deep into denial on this one.”

“What if Dean still doesn’t notice?” Kevin asked, and Charlie paused before answering.

“We’ll have to try and coax him into it. Nudge him in the right direction and help him accept it even as Cas makes it clear that any of Dean’s advances would be welcome.”

“This would be so much easier if Cas was willing to make the first move,” Sam huffed.

“Well yeah but imagine how torn up he’d be if things went wrong. He doesn’t want to risk it, and honestly I don’t blame him,” Kevin argued, and Sam conceded with a nod.

“You’re right. I just wish they could figure it out on their own. But it’s been five years and they still haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“Which is why they’re in luck, now that Team Cupid is on the case!” Charlie said with an emphatic toast of her tea mug.

Sam flinched away from a splash of the hot amber liquid that sloshed out of her cup, and Kevin let out a bark of laughter at her words.

“Good god, please tell me that’s not what you’re going to call this thing,” Kevin cried, his mirth stuck somewhere between horror and amusement.

“What, you don’t like it? Ok, how about The Love Squad?” she amended, and Kevin’s face twisted as if he’d had his finger sliced off by a power-hungry future king of hell.

“What do you think, Sam? Maybe...Operation Celestial Romance!”

“I think if you stay in charge of names, I’m dropping out immediately,” Sam told her with a laugh of his own as he pushed back his chair and climbed to his feet.

“You both have no sense of poetry,” she said with a haughty lift of her chin as she hopped down from the table, and Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you think naming it makes it a bit more suspicious?” Sam called over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen and pulled a six-pack from the fridge. “Dean’s going to start digging around if we start referring to Club Lovesick and he doesn’t know what it is.”

“That’s true,” Charlie sighed, declining the beer Sam offered her.

“Hey, what about me?” Kevin called out as Sam took a bottle for himself and returned the others to the refrigerator.

“Yeah, what about you?” Sam asked, and he arched an eyebrow when Kevin gestured towards the refrigerator.

“You didn’t offer me a beer!” he explained, clearly wounded by the slight.

“You’re underage,” Sam pointed out, barely holding back a smile as Kevin gaped at him in disbelief.

“You are the most hypocritical giant moose-man I have ever met,” he huffed like a flustered old woman as he pushed past Sam and jerked open the fridge. He slammed the top against the door, not bothering to use a bottle opener, before taking a large swig.

“You two are ridiculous,” Sam said with an affectionate shake of his head before he vacated the kitchen and returned to his reading.

“Dude, you don’t even like beer,” Charlie pointed out as Kevin took another swallow, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

“I’m drinking it on a matter of principle,” Kevin insisted, his voice tight, and Charlie hoped he’d heard how idiotic his own words sounded.

“It’s a point of stupidity,” Sam called from the other room, and Charlie grinned as Kevin let out a dismayed hiccup.

 

 


	2. Remain Nameless

“I hereby call into action the first meeting of the League of--”

“I thought we’d decided on no names?”

“No, dear Sammy, you decided on no names. I, on the other hand, have written out an entire list of possible titles for our grandiose gatherings to discuss-- hey!”

Charlie let out a shout of indignation as Sam lunged across the bed and snatched the piece of notebook paper she’d been dramatically waving through the air.

“No names,” he insisted, folding up the paper and pushing it into his pocket.

“Alright alright, no need to go all Edna Mode on me,” Charlie huffed.

“Yeah Sam, you’re such a diva,” Kevin added in a high nasally voice, and he and Charlie burst into giggles a moment later.

“Please tell me you did not make me wake up in the middle of the night just to come listen to you two braid each others hair and gush about girls all night,” Sam sighed, and Charlie shrugged.

That was basically what she and Kevin did every night. The bunker had more than enough space for each inhabitant to have their own room, but Charlie and Kevin had painstakingly dragged his bed into her room one night, and had been too lazy to bother putting it back. Kevin had initially resisted the idea of brushing Charlie’s hair because he’d deemed it “too girly.” But once she’d gotten him to open up about his dead girlfriend and she told him about her feelings for Dorothy, no cliche expression of friendship was off the table.

“It is kind of like a sleepover,” Charlie eventually commented, and Sam made a face that clearly said “not if i can help it.”

“She’s right though; we’re all huddled here in our pajamas, with blankets and pillows, in the middle of the night, to talk about Cas’s boyfriend,” Kevin pointed out, wiggling his feet as he spoke to show off his Mario and Luigi onesie.

“I consider all of my male companions my friends,” Cas stated from the doorway. The three pajama-clad bunkmates turned to face him, and Sam sucked in a breath in shock, while Charlie let out an elated little squeal. Cas had foregone his standard attire of suit, tie, and trenchcoat in favor of….well. Cas had certainly gotten the pajama memo.

“But I feel as if some sort of distinction is being made here between the bond I share with Dean, and the way in which I view my other acquaintances,” Cas added, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his Batman onesie.

“Oh I just love it when he talks like that,” Charlie swooned, tossing her hair and resting the back of her hand on her forehead like an antebellum debutante. “And you look absolutely fabulous, darling,” she added, falling back into her diva baritone.

“Thank you,” Cas replied with a slight blush, glancing down at the black fabric polka dotted with the yellow Batman logo.

He then climbed onto the bed beside Sam, maneuvering around a petting zoo of pillow pets and an assortment of Tolkien-themed blankets. Charlie and Kevin had pushed their beds together for the occasion, the four members of the nameless society all sitting crosslegged on a large platform of mattress.

“Now that we’re all here, we can officially begin!” Charlie announced, grabbing her laptop from her bedside table. “So, anybody got any ideas?”

“I’ve heard many good things about The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Even those who don’t particularly like westerns have enjoyed it. And if you ignore Clint Eastwood’s recent fumbles in the political sphere--”

“Cas...what on earth are you talking about?” Sam interrupted, and Cas frowned over at him in confusion.

“Are we not suggesting movie ideas? I thought that was what one did at a sleepover. Perhaps you meant board-games?”

“Cas, this isn’t a sleepover,” Sam told him with a look in Charlie’s direction, but she merely shrugged.

“Kevin, I thought we’d agreed you would fill Cas in on everything beforehand,” she said, and Kevin sheepishly looked down at the sheep pillow pet he held in his lap.

“Well I was going to...at first. But he just seemed so excited about his first sleepover, and I even let him borrow my Batman onesie for it, and I just couldn’t bear to be the dark heavy nimbostratus raining on his pride parade,” he told her with an incredibly guilty expression.

“There’s no way I could still be annoyed after you used the correct cloud classification and made a gay pride pun in the same sentence,” she admitted with a sigh, slinging her arm around Kevin’s shoulder and giving him an affectionate squeeze.  

“So if this isn’t a sleepover…?” Cas began, and Sam decided they would never get anywhere if he didn’t at least try and guide the conversation.

“We’re here because we want to help you and Dean get together,” he explained. “Between you giving hints and us coercing him, we’ll finally open Dean’s eyes to how smitten you are,” Sam continued, and Cas bit back a grin as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

An involuntary smile spread across Sam’s face at the thought of this bashful angel and his pig-headed brother finally getting their stupid selves together in the slowest building relationship known to mankind.

“I was wondering why Dean wasn’t invited,” Cas commented, steering the conversation away from the his mushy lovey dovey feelings. Cas had been raw and open about his emotions when he’d told Sam, Charlie, and Kevin about how he really felt. He’d been desperate to unburden himself onto someone who understood; someone who could help him through the aching in his heart and flutter in his stomach; someone who spoke English, or at least some variant of the human language -- Cas easily got confused between hamster and guinea pig dialects, and Benvolio wasn’t very good at giving advice anyway.

But Cas felt shy and anxious now that his declaration of love had been made real; he hadn’t merely dreamed his confession, and now he had to live with the consequences. He wasn’t against the idea of his friends helping him win Dean’s heart. But he was afraid of what would happen if they failed. Cas wasn’t sure he’d have much of anything left in him if it turned out Dean didn’t feel the same way -- or worse, if he was off-put by Cas’s feelings.  

“And why there wasn't any food,” Cas continued, jerking himself out of his own thoughts. “I’d been told popcorn and candy were also very popular sleepover...what are they called? Not appetizers, not horderves...”

“Snacks?” Sam suggested, and Cas beamed at him.

“Yes, that’s the word; snacks!”

“Then we’ll be sure to have more snacks at our next non-sleepover meeting of the Nameless Society,” Charlie decided, typing it down.

As self-appointed President, Secretary, and Treasurer (and perhaps she’d have to take over the title of Director of Communications as well, in light of Kevin’s mishap with Cas), she had to be sure to accurately transcribe the minutes of the meeting for future reference.

“Let’s actually come up with something before we start planning for next time,” Sam suggested, stretching his arms high over his head in a yawn. He rubbed at his tired eyes, trying not to dwell on how long he’d been awake and how little sleep he’d had the night before.

“Sam’s right,” Charlie agreed with a nod. “How about...hm. Let’s have Dean make us all breakfast, and Cas compliment him on it,” she said, looking around the group for approval or denial.

“I like it, but I feel like it needs a bit more umph,” Kevin told her with a pigeon-like jerk of his head. “Maybe Cas should be the only one to say he likes it; we all know how Dean sees his cooking and his self-esteem wrapped up together as one big burrito. If his ego is only being petted by Cas, he’s bound to notice it.”

“Good point, Tran,” Charlie praised, typing away. “Does that sound good to everyone? We can reconvene tomorrow night to discuss and decide our next plan of action. And there will be snacks,” Charlie assured with a gesture in Cas’s direction.

“Sounds good,” Sam said as he climbed to his feet. He really wasn’t sure how much good a few nice words from Cas about pancakes was going to do, but he figured doing something was better than nothing.

And, if nothing else, the plans they devised in this strange little club were bound to make life more entertaining.

“Goodnight, guys!” Charlie called as Sam and Cas paused in the doorway, and they both gave little waves before departing.

“So what’d you think?” Charlie asked, fluffing her Bilbo pillow before climbing beneath her Gandalf blanket.

“Definitely a good start,” Kevin decided, both of them wordlessly deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to pull their beds apart. Kevin shifted his tiger pillow pet out of the way as he returned to his bed after turning off the light. He sifted through the mountain of plush until he located his favorite stuffed animal/pillow hybrid, the frog he’d christened Lorenzo.He snuggled Lorenzo closer to his chest before turning to face Charlie in the dark.

“Do you really think it will work?” he asked, and Charlie shrugged before she remembered he couldn’t see her.

“I think when two people want to be in love as badly as those two, all they need is a helping hand and a push in the right direction.”

“Good answer,” Kevin told her around a yawn. “Goodnight, Chuck.”

“Night, Tran.”


	3. Banana Pancakes

“You should make pancakes,” Sam called as he entered the kitchen the next morning. He’d caught Dean with milk and Frosted Flakes in hand, and had offered the suggestion just before his brother could pour his cereal.

“Alright,” Dean agreed after a moment of consideration, returning his cereal supplies to their proper locations. “But I swear to god Sam, if you criticize my griddle creations one more time--”

“All I said was you could make an effort to use whole-grain batter and more natural syrups, Dean. Not exactly desecrating your precious breakfast foods,” Sam told him, holding up his hands in a gesture of mock defense.

“Cooking is not a game,” Dean insisted, wagging a spatula in Sam’s direction. “It is an artform,” he stressed, tugging tight on the knot of his apron for emphasis.

“Whatever you say, Julia Child,” Sam shrugged, leaning back against the counter as Dean scrounged the refrigerator muttering about blueberries and chocolate chips. “Just as long I can eat your Sistine Chapel.”  

“Why am I even doing this?” Dean wondered a moment later, whisk in one hand and a bunch of bananas in the other. “You fill your health-nut gut with berries harvested from an alpine spring and yogurt made from only the gentlest and fluffiest goats; why are you telling me to make pancakes if you’re not even going to eat them?”

Sam hesitated for a moment, waiting for Dean to turn and face him so he could watch his older brother’s reaction. “Because Cas wants them,” Sam said, smiling to himself as Dean shifted on his feet and failed to keep his obviously piqued interest from showing on his face.

“Really? He said that to you?” Dean asked, his voice forcefully nonchalant but still laced with a notable hint of schoolboy crush as he peeled and sliced the fruit .

“Yeah, he brought it up yesterday. He talks about your cooking a lot, actually,” Sam continued. Now that he thought about it, Cas did seem to have a sort of obsession with Dean’s culinary creations. Maybe it had something to do with how Cas’s stint as a penniless human had taught him to appreciate a good home-cooked meal. Although Sam got the feeling Cas was more interested in the chef than the cuisine.

“Hm,” was all Dean said as he turned back to the stove and began ladling the batter onto a pan.

“You should cook for him more often. I think he’d really appreciate it,” Sam added, and Dean gave a little nod of recognition. No “well maybe the little winged princess should cook me a meal every once in a while,” no quippy commentary, no joking retort. Just a nod.

Apparently Sam had underestimated just how much it meant to Dean that Cas valued his cooking; the older Winchester joked about everything, no matter how humor-free the situation was, unless he personally found it serious. So if Dean wasn’t making fun of Cas for wanting more of his food, then he valued the angel’s opinion far more than Sam had imagined.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Charlie mumbled as she entered the kitchen, her voice still slightly slurred from sleep. She made a beeline towards the kettle, giving Sam an appreciative sleepy smile as she realized he’d already turned it on for her.

“Banana pancakes,” Dean told her, and she nodded absentmindedly with a zombie-esque grunt as she dunked a teabag into her mug of steaming water.

“Hey, Kev,grab me a couple plates,” Dean called in place of greeting as Kevin slumped into the area.

Kevin gave a grunt that was probably of the same undead dialect as Charlie’s, and he handed Dean a stack of plates with his eyes still closed.

“You two are ridiculous,” Dean sighed as he piled the first few golden brown flapjacks onto a plate and offered them to Sam. “You get more sleep in one night than I do in a week when we’re on the road, but a newborn panda could open its eyes faster.”

“Go rake some leaves with a tablecloth and leave me alone,” Kevin grumbled as he pulled open the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. Kevin was always grumpy in the mornings, but luckily his “grumpiness” only consisted of senseless half-hearted insults.

Dean rolled his eyes and offered a plate to Charlie, whose lifesource of tea was slowly beginning to replenish her energy. She and Sam made their way over to the table, Kevin following once he’d taken his breakfast and muttered something about Dean paying his taxes in cabbage.

“Anybody seen Cas?” Dean called out as he lingered by the stove. He’d already fixed his own plate, complete with a spoonful of whipped cream plopped on top, but he didn’t want to take his seat before fixing the angel’s food.

“He should be up soon,” Sam offered as he sparingly poured a bit of all-natural syrup onto his plate. Charlie nodded in agreement as she slathered her own pancakes with butter, then drowned them in the sugariest brand-name syrup money could buy.

“Wingman’s here,” Kevin announced a few moments later, his eyes now half-open as he alternated between scarfing down his breakfast and chugging huge gulps of orange juice.

“Hey Cas, I already made you a...oh,” Dean trailed off, his words fading into silence as he stepped into the main room and caught sight of Cas.

The angel was still wearing Kevin’s onesie from the night before, his hair sleep-tousled as he rubbed at his eyes and groggily entered the room. Cas normally made a quick stop to the local farmers market before breakfast, but apparently this morning he’d decided to sleep in. And, judging by Dean’s baffled and speechless response, he’d made the right choice.

“I, uhm, really dig your new getup,” Dean told him, clearing his throat once he’d finally regained the gift of speech. Cas gave a slight shrug as he took the plate Dean held out to him.

“The fabric is quite soft,” Cas said somewhat sheepishly, and it took Dean a moment to realize the angel must have thought he’d been mocking him. Which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He would never admit it aloud, but Dean couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever seen anyone look as hilariously adorable and endearing as a sleep-tousled Cas in footie pajamas.

“No man, I really do like it,” Dean insisted, trying not to sound too emphatic. But the Cas-batman combo would've been enough to send Dean swooning if he hadn’t been concentrated on keeping his cool  in front of his audience of Sam & Co.

“You do?” Cas asked, and it took all of Sam’s willpower not to snort into his juice as he watched how dumbstruck his brother was over the sight of Cas in a friggin batman onesie.

“Yeah, you uh… you look good,” Dean finished awkwardly, stumbling hopelessly over his own words. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d decided to say that last bit aloud, but he didn’t take it back.

“Thanks,” Cas told him with a smile, and Dean’s heart gave a little flutter that he didn’t even bother to try and stamp out. Dean had known for a while now that he was too far-gone to deny his feelings to himself anymore; he could keep them secret from Cas and everyone else, but he’d go insane if he wasn’t at least honest with himself.

Dean followed Cas to the table and took a seat beside Kevin, ignoring the younger boy's incoherent grumbles as he tucked in to his breakfast. The five ate in silence, save the occasional discreet hiccup or burp from Kevin.

"This is delicious; the perfect balance of airy lightness and dense fluffiness within each pancake is incredible," Cas commented after a few minutes, looking up from where he sat across from Dean.

Cas felt a bit nervous about being the only one to speak up about what really were fantastically crafted pancakes. But he'd managed to muster up the courage to speak after a supportive nod from Kevin and an overt wink from Charlie. And the look of surprised elation Dean was now giving him, his smile wide and delighted around a mouthful of pancakes, made it more than worth it.

Cas decided to hang back after the others had vacated the area with more gestures of good luck. He offered to help Dean clean up, carrying plates into the kitchen and assisting him in filling the 1950s era dishwasher.

"That really was a delightful meal," Cas told him again as he handed Dean the spatula, and it was all Dean could do to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Dean had made a damn good batch of pancakes if he did say so himself. He'd put even more effort into his cooking than usual this go around, because apparently Cas raved about his culinary skills even when he wasn't there to hear it. Cas liked his cooking enough to tell Sam about it on more than one occasion, and now he was complimenting Dean when no one else had. Dean knew it was stupid, but even the smallest amount of praise from Cas, especially when he'd worked so hard to please him, was enough to send his heart soaring.

"There is something I want to show you," Cas announced without warning a few minutes later, rolling back down the sleeves of his onesie once they'd finished loading the dishwasher.

"Ok, go for it," Dean replied with a hint of nervousness, not sure where this was going. But he trusted Cas. He trusted Cas with everything: his life, his soul, his happiness.

Dean gave a shake of his head as he realized just how hopelessly sappy his thoughts became whenever Cas was concerned. He was only a few pining thoughts away from writing lovesick poetry and crooning about his achy breaky heart.

"It's in my room," Cas told him, and Dean tried to fight back the blush that flushed warm across his face.

Dean felt like a teenage boy following his crush back to their dormitory as Cas led him down the hallway and deeper into the bunker. He held back a laugh a heartbeat later as he realized that scenario was more or less the truth.

Dean lingered by the doorway once he and Cas reached their destination. Despite having lived in a wonderfully domestic setting with Cas and the others for the past few months, he'd still yet to venture into this particular room.

Dean had always had a thing about personal space. Blame it on growing up in the back seat of the Impala and sharing a musty motel bed with his brother for most of his childhood. But his slightly unusual quirk had never impacted his view of other people's rooms; Dean perused Sam's personal bookshelf when he was bored, watched HBOGo on Charlie's laptop when he wanted to catch up on Game of Thrones, snuggled into Kevin's mess of pillowpets when he needed a good nap.

It's just that Cas was Cas, and Dean was Dean, and none of it made any sense but he still felt weird stepping into the bedroom of someone so...Cas.

"You can come in," Cas called, beckoning Dean through the doorway. Dean stepped forward as casually as he could manage, trying to glance about the room without making it clear that he was memorizing every detail.And if Cas did notice, Dean could merely argue he was just doing it for the sake of the job; who knew when he might need to recall the exact military-style fold of Cas's sheets, or the way he'd carefully hung up his trench coat in the closet along with his shoes?

"It's over here," Cas directed, stepping  over to the desk, and Dean forced his gaze away from the sketch pad and paper he'd noticed on the bedside table. Since when did Cas draw?

But his thoughts of prying about Cas's hobbies were immediately forgotten when he noticed the small furry animal Cas was currently holding out to him.

"His name is Benvolio," Cas announced, sounding prouder than Dean had ever heard him.

"Like...Romeo and Juliet?" Dean asked, somehow more interested in the name than the fact that Cas had literally just produced a fucking guinea pig out of fucking nowhere.

"The one and only," Cas beamed. "It means 'well-wisher' or 'peacemaker'. It suits his personality very well, he has quite a kind soul," Cas explained, smiling down at the little fluffball he held cupped in his hands.

"Do you want to pet him?" he asked without warning, looking up at Dean with big round hopeful eyes.

"Uh, sure," Dean said without thinking, but his nerves were suddenly on high alert when Cas reached down and took hold of his wrist. Dean tried to remain calm as Cas folded down his fingers, leaving his pointer and middle finger standing, and took hold of the back of his hand.

"Just pet him like this," Cas instructed, his voice low with concentration as he led Dean's fingers back and forth along Benvolio's puffy black fur. The small fluffball began emitting a soft thrumming pur, and Cas smiled up at Dean.

"He says he likes you," Cas told him, and Dean didn't even question how or why Cas could communicate with guinea pigs. "He also ask if you’re the one who I...oh," Cas trailed off, his cheeks reddening.

"What?" Dean asked, unable to keep from smiling at the sight of an embarrassed Cas.

"It's nothing," Cas insisted, shaking his head with a bashful smile, and Dean had never in his life wished so hard for the ability to communicate with small household pets.

He'd also never so strongly wanted to reach forward and cup Cas's face in his hand, maybe press a gentle kiss against his cheek and feel the slight scratch of Cas’s morning scruff against his jaw.

Christ. If Dean swooned any harder, he's end up as the heroine of a poorly written teen romance novel.

"How long have you had him?" Dean wondered aloud, forcing his attention back onto Benvolio.

"Two weeks," Cas admitted, and Dean let out a huff of surprise. "I didn’t tell you because I thought you wouldn't approve," he explained, and Dean immediately felt like a grade-A jerk.

"Hey, you're your own man. If you want a low-maintenance pet, you go ahead and get one. If you want to, I don't know, lower the thermostat 20 degrees or throw a wild house party, then you should probably check with everyone else. But don't be afraid to do thing that makes you happy just because you think I wouldn’t like it."

I'd like anything that makes you happy, Dean was an impulsive second away from adding, but he thought the better of it.

"I don't want you to ever feel like you have to keep things secret from me," he said instead.

"Okay. Thanks, Dean," Cas said sincerely, looking relieved,  and Dean needed to find a way to distract himself before he blurted out his feelings, kissed Cas full on the mouth, or performed a clumsy combination of the two.

"Can I hold him?" Dean asked, and Cas nodded excitedly as he pulled Dean's hand closer to him.  He turned it so that Dean's palm faced the ceiling, then he gently folded and squeezed until his hand formed a perfect little guinea pig sized pocket.

"Here you go," Cas muttered softly as he placed Benvolio in Dean's hand with all the tenderness and patience of a loving parent.

"Might need two hands," Cas added a moment later, taking Dean's other hand and bringing it up to better support Benvolio's weight.

Cas left his hands pressed warm against Dean's, blatantly ignoring the fact that Benvolio was rather chubby but no guinea pig was that heavy. He resisted the urge to run his fingers along the backs of Dean's, to trace over joints and bone and skin and push up farther, along his wrists and forearms. To cup Dean's elbows and pull him closer, making sure not to squish Benvolio (who was very vocally in favor of this series of events) as he pressed a kiss against that unfairly inviting mouth.

Instead, Cas merely let his palms rest against Dean's knuckles, trying to quiet his rapidly pounding heart as he realized he and Dean were practically holding hands. Sure, a matchmaking guinea pig had been tossed into the mix, but Cas wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth (a colloquial phrase Benvolio had taught him as he'd routinely checked his small fluffy friend's gums).

Cas couldn't  remember the last time he and Dean had even gotten to spend this much time together; somehow living under the same roof hadn't managed to offer any bonding opportunities thus far. Luckily enough, Benvolio was just as keen as Cas and the others to squeeze a romance out of this prolonged will-they-won't-they period of frustration, confusion, and melodramatic longing.

Benvolio gave a small squeak, jerking Cas out of his musings and reminding him of the plan he and the guinea pig had devised late last night.

"Did I do something wrong?" Dean asked, his brow creased with worry as he looked down at the little ball of fluff.

"No, he's just hungry," Cas lied, more than willing to pretend he hadn't already given the guinea pig his morning meal. "I've run out of food and need to go to the farmer's market to pick up some vegetables," Cas continued. A half-truth; he was running low on celery, but he was always sure to have more than enough fruits and veggies on hand to feed his fluffy friend.

"You could accompany me if you'd like," Cas added, holding his breath as he awaited Dean's response.

"Sure," Dean told him with a smile, and Cas fought the small flutter in his stomach as he thought about going to market with Dean. Holding hands, tasting fresh fruits, wandering through stalls of vegetables without a care in the world.

Alright, they probably wouldn't end up holding  hands. Cas knew this short lived guinea pig cuddle fest was probably the closest he'd get to real handholding with Dean for quite some time. But a little thing like reality wasn't going to stop Cas from dreaming.

 


	4. Strawberry Swing

They ended up holding hands.

Charlie let out a high-pitched squeal when Cas shared the news with the group later that night. Sam clapped him on the back with a huge smile, and Kevin flailed so wildly he bounced right off his bed. Then they of course demanded a full-length,  in-depth recap of the adventure to the farmer’s market, and Cas was only too happy to comply.

* * *

 

Cas and Benvolio hadn’t counted on the heavy rainclouds and ominous thunder in the distance when they’d concocted their plan to reel Dean into a grocery shopping date.

The dark and dreary pre-storm atmosphere didn’t make for the best outdoor shopping weather, but Dean insisted that they make the trip anyway; there was no way he was going to let little Benvolio starve because of a few water droplets. Cas tried and failed to keep from beaming in delight at how admirably dedicated Dean was to looking after Benvolio’s wellbeing.

And so the two climbed into the Impala, Cas quickly pulling on his dress shoes as they headed out the door to keep the fabric footies of his onesie from getting soaked and soppy.

As they drove, Dean found his eyes gaze wandering to where Cas’s hands were folded in his lap. Dean’s attention was entirely focused on how it had felt to have the other man’s hands cup his; warm palms pressed against his knuckles, soft fingers gently moving against his.

Cas led the way once they arrived at the farmer’s market, making a bee-line for the produce.

Dean slowed as they passed by the florist’s section, and he momentarily considered purchasing a small bouquet and presenting it to Cas like the lovesick teenage boy he really was. Maybe if it went wrong he could even brush it off as an incredibly strange and uncomfortable joke. On second thought, there was no way he could pass off an offering of flowers as anything other than romantic at this point in their very precariously balanced friendship-on-the-brink-of-romance.

He suddenly realized he’d been left behind when he looked up and spotted Cas a few yards away. Dean felt a huge grin spread across his face at the sight of Cas enthusiastically waving at him from down the aisle.  One or two people glanced at the angel’s get-up in surprise or confusion, but most of the shoppers who frequented the market seemed to have seen much stranger in their days, and didn’t even look twice.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Cas asked once he’d doubled-back to join Dean among the flowers. He cupped the blossoming petals of a large pink rose in his hands and brought the flower to his face, his eyes falling shut as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

Dean looked on in silence as Cas continued to inspect the flowers, dragging his fingers along soft petals and savoring various aromas, and he was actually caught off-guard by how serenely at peace Cas looked among the bright colors and sweet smells. Ridiculous as it was, Cas almost seemed to be at one with nature, like some kind of literal flowerchild surrounded by his kin, with his face turned up towards the sky awaiting life-giving drops of rain.

“Do you want to buy one?” Dean blurted without even thinking, and the smile of pure elation Cas gave him in response ensured that Dean didn’t regret it.

“I would enjoy that immensely, Dean,” Cas told him, and Dean figured he might as well give up on giving up his ridiculous grin as Cas began searching for the perfect specimen.

“You can buy more than one if you want,” he told him, half out of a selfish desire to keep watching Cas peruse the flora, and half out of an insatiable need to make this unbelievably pure and gentle creature happy in whatever way he could.

Cas’s eyes lit up at the prospect of purchasing multiple flowers, and within a few minutes he was holding an armful of some dozen multicolored roses. Dean fought the urge to peck an impromptu kiss on Cas’s cheek once he’d paid for the flowers, and his need to engage in unprovoked acts of adorable affection when he glanced over a few minutes later and saw what Cas had done with his flowers.

“For you,” Cas announced, holding out the flower crown he’d crafted in Dean’s direction.

Dean stared in surprise, entirely dumbstruck by the gesture, and it took him a moment to regain enough control of his motor skills to reach out and take hold of the gift.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean told him after clearing his throat, still in a state of awe as Cas’s hands brushed against his once again.

“Do you like it?” Cas asked almost bashfully, and Dean felt his cheeks redden beyond belief when a group of teenage girls passed by them giggling and whispering about “the most adorable couple they’d ever seen” and how they “wished their boyfriends were that cute”.

“It’s great, man. I love it,” Dean told him honestly, and he wanted to repeat his answer a million times over if only to ensure that Cas never stopped looking at him like that.

The two made their way away from the florist’s stand and towards the food section of the farmers market, the sky continuing to grow darker by the minute as thunder rumbled nearby. As they walked among carts of carrots and cabbage and Cas selected the finest crops, Dean followed behind and tried to make sense of his muddled thoughts.

He couldn’t be sure if he was just confusing his desire for Cas’s actions to be flirtatious with the reality of their very unique and intimate friendship. But either way, no matter Cas’s motivations for flower crowns, Cas’s sudden forwardness was making Dean shy and squirmy and awkward.

All he could think was that he desperately wanted to impress Cas. He wasn’t quite sure how he could thrill a being who’d been alive since the earth’s creation and witness the entirety of human history from the very beginning.

But when it came down to the wire, whether Cas was interested in him or not, Dean just desperately didn’t want to screw this up. Their relationship, friendly or romantic, meant more to him than anything. And even if he couldn’t have Cas, he wasn’t willing to risk losing him.

Dean continued along behind Cas, hefting the basket he’d snagged when it had become clear that Cas wouldn’t be able to carry the produce in his arms. But only some ten minutes into shopping, a flash of lightning signaled the storm finally breaking. Rain fell fast and heavy, thick droplets plopping down almost immediately, and a collective squeal rang out through the crowd as shoppers swarmed towards the tarp-covered section of the area.

Cas, on the other hand, closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his arms spread wide as if he were about to take flight. Dean instinctively shrugged off his jacket and stepped forward to drape it over Cas’s shoulders, and only after he’d made the movement did his mind provide the logical explanation of “leather is more waterproof than wool”.

“Let’s get under that awning over there,” Dean suggested, squinting through the water dripping into his eyes, and Cas looked over at him like he had no idea why Dean would want to shield himself from the rain.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Dean elaborated, although a moment later the hunter recalled that he’d be much more likely to get sick than the angel. But before he could resend his argument and concede to an every man for himself mentality, Cas reached down and took his hand in his.

And then they were running, hand-in-hand, two grown men in a onesie and a flower crown splashing through puddles and maneuvering around carts of vegetables.

They stood squished close together amongst the rest of the damp crowd, the entire market’s population all huddled together under a single tarp awning.

Cas fought the urge to look down and visually verify that Dean was, in fact, still holding his hand. Because it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to have completely imagined this entire adventure, from Dean accepting his flowering token of affection to his warm calloused hand currently wrapped around his own.

But Cas was thankful he hadn’t averted his gaze when another member of the crowd shifted and Dean was jostled forward, the hunter stumbling into Cas and reaching out for his shoulder with his free hand to steady himself.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered, shifting even closer to find his balance, and there was no force on earth strong enough to make Cas hold the movement against him. Cas found himself unable to respond as he looked up at Dean, entirely distracted by the water droplets that had turned his blonde lashes into spiky brown stars framing the most breathtaking green Cashad seen in all his millennia of existence. He wanted to smooth the pad of his thumb along Dean’s damp brow, drag his fingers along the freckles sprinkled on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, press a gentle kiss against the strong cut of his jaw.

It took all of Dean’s self control to keep his hand placed on Cas’s shoulder instead of sliding his fingers into the hair at the nape of the angel’s neck, pulling him closer and finally closing the gaping chasm of physical distance that seemed to ceaselessly linger between them. All he could think about was how natural it would feel to just lean in and kiss him, lacing their fingers together and running his thumb back and forth over Cas’s hand as his tongue grazed the angel’s bottom lip and gently pleaded for entrance into his mouth.

But a cheer went up through the crowd and the spell was broken, Cas and Dean both stumbling out of their trance. Cas looked around in confusion before he realized that the rain had ceased, and a moment later the crowd began to move back towards the open area of the market. Cas and Dean followed the flow of bodies, their hands pulled apart by shifting strangers.

Cas offered Dean his jacket back once they returned to their shopping, but the hunter shook his head with a small smile and told him to keep it.

“It looks good on you,” Dean told him, and Cas couldn’t help but think there was some sort of social significance behind wearing the jacket of the man you’d just held hands with. But despite all that had happened, Cas was still too hesitant to label his relationship with Dean as anything more than friendly; the last thing he wanted was to imagine they had something more if Dean didn’t feel the same way.

The two finished their shopping and returned home, Cas sorting his fruit and vegetables in their proper homes of the refrigerator as Dean pulled out a dish towel and began to dry off in the bunker’s main living room.

Cas let out a laugh upon re-entering the living room, and Dean paused in his toweling to look over at the angel.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, and Cas gestured to the top of his head.

“I failed to notice it before, but the rain has left your hair in quite an amusing state,” Cas laughed, and Dean self-consciously reached up to pat at his hair. It had been quite a while since he’d cut his hair and just hadn’t gotten around to it now that he rarely left the domestic utopia of the bunker. He knew it was prone to misbehaving if he didn’t make an effort to keep it styled, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of wacky state it was currently in based on Cas’s reaction.

Dean attempted to pat his hair down without disrupting the flower crown that had now become his second most prized possession, but Cas only laughed harder in response.

“If it’s so damn hilarious why don’t you fix it then?” Dean grumbled, not even partially annoyed entirely unable to keep the laughter out of his own voice. He didn’t even quite realize what he’d said until Cas was stepping forward to carefully lift the flower crown from his head. Cas now stood close in front of him with his arms lifted almost as if to wrap them around Dean’s neck in a loving embrace.

Once the crown was removed, Cas made his own very valiant attempt at patting down Dean’s hair, but to no avail. When that method proved ineffective, Cas impulsively ran his fingers through Dean’s hair instead, brushing through soft short blonde locks. He watched in fascination as Dean’s eyes drifted shut, and Cas couldn’t fathom why on earth he’d never tried this before when Dean let out a soft hum and lightly bit down on his lower lip.

“You very strongly resemble a puppy whose stomach is being rubbed,” Cas said softly, not even sure he’d uttered the words aloud until Dean let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement. Cas continued to comb his fingers through his hair, and although he desperately didn’t want this sensation to end, his arms were beginning to ache. And so he pulled his arms away but remained standing close to the still damp hunter.

Cas knew his face was on fire was Dean’s eyes slowly blinked open, the two of them staring at each other in silence, both waiting for something to happen but unwilling to light the spark that would set them both ablaze.  

After a few more moments of tense silence Dean abruptly announced that they’d forgotten the entire purpose of their mission: Benvolio!

“The little dude must be starving by now,” Dean said as he widened the distance between them and went to retrieve some lettuce and a few small carrots from the refrigerator. The two then made their way to Cas’s room, where Cas showed Dean how to feed Benvolio. And like the good friend he was, the guinea pig followed through with their plot and ate despite not being particularly hungry.

“Do you, uh, think I could tag along next time you need more munchies for the little guy?” Dean asked, clearing his throat in a vain attempt to clear his mind when Cas looked over at him with those unfairly bright blue eyes.

“I would like it very much if you accompanied me again, Dean,” Cas told him, and Dean had never in his life struggled so hard to keep his breathing steady.

“It also, uhm, it’d be cool if you could maybe, I don’t know, show me more about taking care of him. Just to, you know…” “just to be around you more,” Dean finished in his head because there was no way he could bring himself to admit his true motivations aloud.

“I would love to have more of your company,” Cas beamed. “And Benvolio would as well,” he agreed with a glance down at the guinea pig he still held cupped in his hands.

Dean didn’t know what to do with himself at this point. The mission had been accomplished; what now?

But Dean did know that if he stuck around any longer, he’d end up kissing Cas full on the mouth.

And so he blurted a quick goodbye and vacated the room before he could do anything stupid and potentially catastrophic.

* * *

“Oh come on!” Sam exploded once Cas had finished relaying the day’s events, and the large moose-man’s agitated outburst provoked a startled jump from Kevin.

And while under any other circumstances Sam would surely have apologized, he was currently far too annoyed with his idiot brother to think about anything else. His brother had always had a knack for not-so-logical decisions, but this was getting out of hand; Dean was so close but for some godforsaken reason he refused to let himself be happy.

And at this point Sam honestly just couldn’t take it anymore.

He rose to his feet without warning, and Charlie looked up at him in surprise as he headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” she called in mild concern, clearly a bit worried by his sudden change in mood.

“To talk some sense into my big brother,” Sam told her, and Kevin let out an alarmed grunt.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Kevin admitted, and even Cas looked more than a bit unsettled.

“Cas, do you trust me?” Sam asked, focusing his attention on the angel.

“With my life,” the other man responded without hesitation, his words filled with honesty. But there was something in his expression that made Sam hesitate.

“But what?” he inquired, and Cas looked down at his hands folded in his lap. He’d changed out of his damp batman onesie and into a wonderwoman one, having proclaimed her as his favorite superhero and personal idol after learning about her from Kevin. And despite his current appearance, Sam had no trouble taking Cas’s next words seriously.

“I know you’ll find this juvenile and perhaps a bit naive, but there are times when I feel as if this is far more important than my life. I have existed for eons and never has anything meant more to me than your brother,” he admitted.

Sam could only blink in stunned surprise when Cas looked up at him and he saw nothing but the determined honesty of a battle-weary soldier ready for his hard-earned fairytale ending.

Sam had known Dean and Cas were into each other, but this was some next-level shit right here. Because there was no doubt in his mind that his brother felt the same way; these two needed and wanted and cared for each other like nothing in nature Sam had ever encountered before, and it was high fucking time they admitted it to each other.

“Right then. I’ll be back,” Sam announced, then turned and left the room without another word.

He knocked on Dean’s door firmly and repeatedly, pounding until he heard a familiar annoyed groan and the door clicked open.

“What do you want?” Dean grumbled, looking quite a bit peeved. It clearly wasn’t an emergency since Sam had knocked rather than busting the door down. But in Dean’s opinion, nothing short of an emergency was a good enough reason to wake him up.

“It’s Cas,” Sam said simply, and Dean was immediately alert.

“What about Cas? Is he alright? Where is he?” Dean demanded in a rush, questions flooding out of him as his mind raced at a million miles a minute.

But Sam only smiled.

“What? What about this is funny?” Dean insisted, and Sam chuckled with a shake of his head.

“How stupidly blind you are. Or maybe you aren’t blind,” Sam admitted a second later as he pondered his statement. “I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt for the past few years, but it’s getting ridiculous now.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, but he knew his voice betrayed the fact that he’d begun to catch on.

“Still talking about Cas,” Sam told him with another smile, this one infused with quite a bit more sass.

“What about him?” Dean wondered in what was perhaps the most unconvincing voice he’d ever used. Sam gave him a look that clearly said “might as well just give up now, you ain't fooling nobody.”

With a heavy sigh, Dean pulled Sam into his room, turning on the lights and closing the door behind him.

“I need you to come right out and say whatever it is you’re hinting at. Just spit it out,” Dean said seriously, and Sam outright laughed in his face.

“That is exactly what I want from you!” he cried, clearly exasperated. Dean crossed his arms in defiance, silently insisting that he was still waiting on a proper answer, and so Sam continued. “I want you to admit that you’re in love with Cas.”

Dean knew it was coming. He’d known it would happen eventually. How could it not? But it still threw him, hearing someone else say it aloud. He’d never openly told Sam or the others, but he hadn't exactly worked to keep it hidden, either. Maybe stifle or subdue the feelings within himself in the beginning, but never conceal them from others once he’d finally come to terms with them.

“Why?” Dean blurted, ever on the defensive. “Why do you need to hear me say it?” “If you know it’s already true?” he finished to himself.

Sam paused for a moment before answering.

“You’re right. I don’t need to know,” Sam began.

And, for a split second, Dean thought he’d managed to weasel his way out of this.

“But Cas does,” Sam finished.

And Dean knew then and there who’d really won this round.

* * *

Sam returned to Charlie and Kevin’s room with Dean in tow. And as a result the three slumber party partners, for lack of a better term, completely lost their shit.

Charlie and Kevin let out elated shrieks, while Cas looked like embarrassment incarnate; Sam was confident that if given the power to choose a superhuman ability, Cas would request chameleon powers so that he might fade into the background for all eternity.

Dean shouted over the shouting to request that Charlie and Kevin give him a minute alone with Cas, and the two roommates looked at each other as if they’d just discovered Santa’s true existence and can’t quite believe it. They scrambled off their beds and out the door in a flurry of excited squeals, elated giggles, Gandalf blankets, and fish pillow pets.

Sam let out a sigh that strongly resembled that of a slightly overworked babysitter who couldn’t help but still adore the children in his charge. He watched Charlie and Kevin sprint down the hall letting out hoots of celebration, then turned to see Dean take a seat beside Cas on the bed before he pulled the bedroom door shut.

Sam then made his way down the hall and called after his more envigorated partners in crime that it wasn’t quite time to rejoice yet; in fact, the hardest part had just begun. 


	5. Clark Gable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it only took me a century, but I'm finally posting the next (and possibly last? Depends on you guys) chapter of this fic that I adore so much. I know, I know -- you're wondering why it took me so long to update if I love it so much. Well I got a job that was pretty time consuming...but there really is no excuse. Hopefully I've made it up to you...if not feel free to gripe in the comments and I'm sure we can work something out

“Look, uhm, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now,” Dean began as he took a seat next to Cas on Charlie’s bed. He felt like the most awkward creature alive as he fumbled over his painfully vague words and stared down at his hands instead of looking at Cas.

“I still don’t really know how to get it out but I…” Dean trailed off, now casting his gaze towards the ceiling as if some sort of confidence booster might be hidden among the plaster. Or at least one of those “you can do it!” kitten posters; Dean could use whatever kind of help he could get right now.

“Dammit Cas, I’ve imagined telling you this a thousand different ways but now that I’m here I just can’t get it out and I feel like an ass but I--”

Dean’s was interrupted by a sudden, warm, and incredibly enjoyable pressure against his mouth.

Yes, Cas had kissed him. Firm but gentle, not too insistent but making sure his intentions were clearly read. And it was the bravest thing Cas had ever done.

But the angel was just so tired of waiting. And having Dean right here in front of him, so close and on the brink of something wonderful...he couldn’t help but finally take action. As terrifying and irrevocable as it was, Cas felt a giddy excitement at the thought that he’d finally “made a move” (as Charlie would say) on Dean Winchester.

Dean sat frozen for a full three seconds before he realized that this was not yet another one of his hundreds of waking fantasies that involved Cas’s perfect mouth against his. This was real. This was happening. Holy shit.

Cas was kissing him.

Well fuck. It was about time he did something about it.

Cas smiled to himself as Dean finally reacted, the other man’s hand reaching up to cup the back of Cas’s neck. Cas could feel him finally starting to relax as Dean slid his fingers up into Cas’s hair, rubbing in small soothing circles as his lips brushed and caressed against his.

Cas knew that above all else, this is what he’d spent an eternity searching for; this was home.

But although Dean had struggled with articulating his feelings, there were still a few things Cas wanted to say. He broke the kiss slowly, reaching up to cup Dean’s face in his hands and remaining close enough to still feel his breath on his face.

“I've only known you for a few years, but you are what I've spent millennia in search of. You are that ache my heart spent centuries yearning for,” Cas blurted. He hadn’t really planned on starting off with such a profound statement, but there was no denying its validity.

He knew Dean would have absolutely no response for such an utterance, and so Cas merely decided to continue spouting profound praise.

“Every fiber of my celestial being lives and breathes for you,” Cas told him, his voice growing raw with emotion the more he talked. His fingers absently traced the scratchy early morning stubble on Dean’s jaw, touching and rubbing into the areas he’d spent countless hours fantasizing about, thinking he’d never get the opportunity to make his dreams a reality. But now here he was, holding the man dearest to his heart out of all creation. Since the beginning of human existence no man had ever been loved as much as Dean Winchester was by his onesie-wearing angel.

“You have to at least respond in some manner,” Cas said with a smile after a long stretch of comfortable silence, the two of them merely continuing to hold each other.

But instead of offering a verbal reply, Dean pushed forward and kissed Cas, this time desperate and needy. Because Dean was afraid--terribly and perhaps even inconsolably petrified. He’d spent years pining and waiting and wanting and needing, but now that he finally had what he’d been after for so long...he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

Dean wasn’t used to having his dreams come true--at least not for long. Good things didn’t happen to him; an upturn in his luck was only ever a trick or a short lived vacation from the harsh reality that was his life.     

Immediately aware that something was wrong, Cas pulled away and looked Dean square in the face, staring into a world of pain and confusion. Dean looked ready to cry, his hand on his chest and his brow creased in very apparent anguish.

“Are you alright?” Cas inquired, his voice filled with concern, and Dean shook his head like a child who’d just scraped his knee.

“I’m terrified,” Dean admitted, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Terrified of what this will do to me,” he elaborated in a pained voice. Cas looked as if he was about to assure Dean that he would never harm or endanger him, but Dean already knew all that. He knew Cas only had and only ever would have his best interest in mind.

“It’s not about you doing anything to hurt me… it’s…” Dean trailed off with a huff, running a hand over his face in obvious discomfort. “I’ve lost you twice now, and I just....every time it kills me inside, honestly destroys every ounce of life left in me,” Dean confided, his voice thick with tears now. He gripped the back of Cas’s neck with a bit more force, nothing uncomfortable but a certain sign of his distress.  

“When the Leviathans took you, when I lost you in Purgatory…” Dean’s speech had grown tight. “My heart shattered because you were the only thing holding it together. And I don’t know if I can go through that pain again,” he admitted.

In other words, Dean realized, he was being a coward. But coming to terms with his lack of courage didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Cas pulled Dean’s hand away from his chest and placed two of his own hands there instead, pressing warm over his heart and leaning down to place a kiss on the spot through the fabric. He then nuzzled up into Dean’s neck, warm and soft and perfect.

“I'll do everything in my power to make sure you never hurt again, Dean Winchester,” Cas promised. “I'll never leave you again.”

Dean let out a deep sigh, releasing all his fears and worries, and even insecurities, in one long breath. He wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him closer, placing a kiss on the angels’ forehead. Dean absolutely adored it whenever Cas said his full name like that. Like it was an oath so strong he wouldn’t dare break it. Like it was a covenant of the highest sanctity. Like it was a profession of the deepest and most unyielding love.

Dean squeezed his arms a little tighter around Cas, silently pleading for more contact, and Cas looked up at him with a knowing smile before he began kissing up and down his neck.

“You are my everything,” Dean breathed without even thinking. And saying the words aloud, the phrase he’d turned over in his mind a million times but never vocalized, didn’t feel odd in the slightest. Because it was the most fundamental truth he knew.

And then Cas was kissing him again,the angel's hands pushing up his chest to wrap around his shoulders and pull their bodies closer together. He could feel Dean’s fingers in his hair again, the hunter’s other hand running up and down his back, tracing patterns and rubbing soothing circles. Cas pushed closer against him, wanting to meld their bodies together and completely eradicate the distance between them. He wanted Dean entirely to himself, to finally lay claim to the man who’d evaded his grasp for so long.

But as the kiss grew more heated, Dean pulled away and reminded the angel that it probably wasn’t the best idea to get too rough and rowdy in Charlie’s bed. Cas agreed, and after taking a moment to straighten themselves out, they decided to go and tell the others the good news.

The two climbed up from the bed before clasping hands, and Dean pressed one last kiss on Cas’s lips just because he could. Cas felt as if his face was stuck in a permanent smile, and he figured the same must be true for Dean as they grinned at each other like the lovesick idiots they truly were.

“Ready?” Dean asked as they stood in the doorway of the living room. They could hear Charlie, Sam, and Kevin camped out on the floor among the chairs and couches, like an anxious audience awaiting opening night of the season’s newest hit musical.

“I’ve been ready for years,” Cas admitted, still grinning like crazy, and Dean leaned over to peck a kiss on his cheek, yes, once again, because he could. And so the two of them entered from stage left holding hands, and they received a standing ovation from Sam, accompanied by rancorous cheering, hooting, and whistling from Charlie and Kevin.

Then a chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” rose up from the crowd. And so Dean pulled Cas into his arms and gave a kiss Clark Gable would have admired, dipping him with a dramatic flair like the bleeding heart romantic they’d always known he was. 


End file.
